


Decoding Dean

by jewishdeanwinchester



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Humor, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Repressed Dean Winchester, vaguely nsfw but only vaguely
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 16:13:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29421405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jewishdeanwinchester/pseuds/jewishdeanwinchester
Summary: After he receives his pop culture upload from Metatron, Cas wants to clarify a few things. Dean would like nothing more than to pretend he never said any of those things.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 15
Kudos: 90





	Decoding Dean

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by this post from tumblr user shortkinggabriel: https://shortkinggabriel.tumblr.com/post/643049511090044928/we-deserved-to-see-a-scene-where-cas-after
> 
> i'm not actually sure when it makes sense for this to take place, so let's just say either about halfway through s10 or after dean rescues cas from the empty in the secret good spn finale

"Dean?”

Dean looks up from his well-worn copy of _Slaughterhouse Five_ to see Cas standing in the doorway of his bedroom. His mouth goes a little dry - you think he’d be used to seeing Cas in regular clothes, now that he’s human, but the blue t-shirt he’s wearing today is just this side of too tight and makes his arms look. And his eyes look. _Nope._ Dean shakes it off and clears his throat as subtly as he can.

“What’s up, Cas?”

Cas has this _look_ on his face that Dean is having a hard time deciphering. He takes a couple steps into the room, like he’s afraid to get too comfortable if this intense conversation they’re clearly about to have takes a wrong turn, but there’s a fire in his eyes that betrays his physical lack of confidence. Dean swallows hard.

“Out with it, man, I’m trying to read here,” Dean tries at a joking tone and laughs, but it falls flat. He can see the full body eye-roll Cas is trying to restrain.

“I know how many times you’ve read that book, Dean.” He finally sits down at the foot of the bed. “And as interesting as I know you find the Tralfamadorians, I’d like to ask you about something.”

Dean is also still getting used to Cas being able to drop pop culture references, especially ones from his favorite author, and before his brain can catch up to his mouth and put a stop to _whatever_ is about to happen, he gives Cas the go ahead.

“Shoot.” 

“As you know, Metatron gave me infinite knowledge of all the books, movies, and television shows in the world. Your speech patterns were so incomprehensible to me for so long, that it’s been illuminating to retroactively understand all the things you’ve said over the course of our friendship. But there are two that I haven’t been able to make sense of why you would use them in reference to us.” 

Cas pauses this speech he’s so clearly been rehearsing, and Dean’s mouth goes dry again. He racks his brain, trying to think of what references Cas could possibly be talking about but there’s been so many over the years that he can’t even begin to guess which ones have been bothering him. But Cas quickly puts an end to his confusion.

“Bert and Ernie, Dean. You said once that you knew two things for certain: one, that Bert and Ernie are gay, and two, that I was not 'gonna die a virgin.’”

Dean can’t even make fun of Cas’ finger quotes because the red alert sirens that live in his brain for the sole purpose of getting him out of these situations start screeching. His lungs are really fighting him on this whole breathing thing, and through the noise in his head an inner voice cuts through - _abort the conversation! Abort it!_

“It was just a joke, Cas,” he stutters out, trying to steer this conversation away from the edge of the cliff on which they’re precariously perched. “No deeper meaning there, buddy, I swear.”

Cas arches _that_ eyebrow at him, and Dean has to tamp down a full body shudder. 

“Okay, Dean. It was a joke. You were absolutely not making any allusions at all to the nature of our relationship.” There’s a dry bite in his words, and his face is annoyingly smug, and Dean feels the manic laugh bubbling out of him before he can stop it. 

“Nope, definitely wasn’t,” he tries, but the words ring hollow, even to his own ears. 

“And you were definitely not implying you wanted to be the one to take my virginity.”

Dean just about chokes on his tongue. 

“What the _fuck_ , Cas,” he splutters, jumping up from his bed and practically running to his desk and away from this whole... _thing_. Dean's hands grip tight on the back of the chair; he can feel his ears getting hotter by the second. “I _wasn’t_ , I’m not - I’m not -” 

He can’t finish the sentence. _Why_ can’t he finish the sentence. But then Cas puts his arms up in surrender, and the vice on Dean's lungs relaxes just the slightest bit.

“Alright, Dean. I believe you.” That damn raised eyebrow tells Dean that Cas doesn’t believe him at all. “And I really should be thanking you for helping me understand why my experience with April was so underwhelming. It would appear that I, much like Bert and Ernie, am gay.” 

Something inside of Dean’s stomach swoops. He refuses to acknowledge it. 

“Oh.” God. _Say something else, you moron._ “Uh. That’s. That’s good. Thank you? For telling me.” That’s what Charlie had said was appropriate right? _Why_ is this so hard for him?

Cas is still staring at him, his expression softer. He closes the gap between them and puts his hand on Dean’s shoulder, inches from where he once branded him with a handprint. It takes everything in him to not lean into the touch. 

“Of course, Dean. I know I can trust you.” He tilts his head, and it reminds Dean so much of the Cas he met nearly a decade ago now that something in his chest pinches. “I hope you know that you can trust me, too.”

It feels like a brick has been knocked loose in the dam that is his heart. Dean can feel a familiar prick in his tearducts and clears his throat, willing the tears away. Cas gives him one of those crooked smiles of his (that annoying fucking thing in Dean’s chest clenches, _again)_ , and drops his hand, turning around to leave the room. 

"Wait,” he says, grabbing at Cas’ wrist before he can leave. They both stare at where their skin touches, and Dean is shocked at himself. That seems to be his M.O. for the day. He doesn’t even know why he did it; his hand just seemed to move of it’s own volition. “I - uh. What was the other thing you remembered?” 

A grin that can only be described as shit-eating brightens Cas’ face. 

“Thelma and Louise.” He steps in close, so close that Dean can almost count his eyelashes. “I know what happens at the end, Dean.” He can feel Cas’ breath on his face, warm and minty, and his eyes flick unbidden down to his pink, chapped lips. “Before they drive off that cliff.” 

Dean can’t look at him anymore - he closes his eyes, takes a few shuddering breaths, tries to fight off the warmth flooding his body that sets his limbs tingling, but his jeans are already too confining. It’s too much, a person can only resist for so long, and he can feel himself pitch forward slightly, about to close what little space remains between the two of them, when the heat of Cas’ breath dissipates.

Dean jerks his eyes open to see Cas halfway to his door already. 

“Goodnight, Dean,” he says as he leaves, not looking back, but with the sound of a smirk in his voice. 

Dean stumbles across the room to slam the door shut, and leans against it like he doesn’t trust his legs to hold him up.

“Fuck,” he croaks out. He drags himself back to his bed and collapses on it, face first into his pillow. _A teenage girl_ , he thinks. _I’m a friggin’ teenage girl._ He tries to scrub the memory of Cas’ wrist under his hand, Cas’ body so close to his, Cas’ breath on his skin, from his brain, but all he manages to do is make his jeans even tighter. Dean groans into the pillow. As the last vestiges of his self-control fall away and he reaches a shameful hand down to unbuckle his belt, he can only think one thing _._

He is _so_ screwed.


End file.
